The Old Butterfly Net Poem by Neera Lollbeeharry
The Old Butterfly Net
I carry along an old butterfly net,
With a yawning hole in it set.
Whatever it captures,
Briefly flutters,
But leaves,
For sure,
With the wind...
My net then lies empty,
And I feel unhappy,
That I let the bubbly
Flee.
I always forget
That my butterfly net
Has an open gash
So it cannot stash
I keep trying, like a fool,
To use the worn out tool-
My old butterfly net,
My heart...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 4:50:00 AM # 1.0.0.1119
